On Friday morning, I bring a bunch of the coming Sunday’s issues to the gym, and I surreptitiously deposit them in the rack by the exercycles where the journalistic offerings pertain mostly to firmer abs and butts. Then I get on the rowing machine nearby and wait to see who picks up our magazine. I’ve done this now four times, and the results have been very satisfying. Each time, the first person to approach the rack has taken one of our issues. And this morning something weird happened — one guy took all three of the ones I left there.

At first, I suspected he worked for the gym and was merely removing unsanctioned literature. But later, I saw him leaving the locker room, showered and dressed, with the three issues rolled up under his arm.